


Clouds in my coffee

by citrusjava



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, Gen, POV Lisa Braeden, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 01:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14660876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusjava/pseuds/citrusjava
Summary: In Heaven, Lisa is put in one of the best moments of the life she had lived. She doesn't remember it at all.Then she does.





	Clouds in my coffee

In Heaven, Lisa remembers. She is sitting outside, and it’s a soft night, wooden porch warm with humidity. Ben is inside, sleeping, and a beautiful man who loves her is handing Lisa a beer. Lisa has no idea who he is. She takes the beer, and his fingers rough against hers, cool ring. It’s a pleasant finger brush. He goes inside for another beer. Little smile. She wonders at how pretty the point is where the ends of his lips meet, one round teardrop shape edge meeting the other.  
Then she remembers.  
That little shit. “I just want to say that I’m sorry”. That little fucck. She’d deserved to remember. It was not up to him. She’d at least deserved to understand, deserved validation. A real goodbye. “I’m the guy who hit you”. Yeah you did. 

They spent a year together.  
The best year of her life? She’d used to say that. Didn’t count the others, because they were never real before this one year …. She used to hope it was the first of the happy years. That she would have happy, that it would happen after all.  
She had hoped it would teach her how things could be good, and then she would be happy, she’d have learned how.  
Towards the end she’d used to say that, also, it had been the best year of her life. A flutter of sweetness over a deep of sorrow. Tried to savour the dregs of it. What else was there left still to do. Bargained . Go with Sam. Just don’t disappear from my life, OK?  
It had been her one best year. And it was done. That was done. Was she supposed to be grateful?

Perhaps Dean did have it right. What was the use of remembering? Knowing how vulnerable she had allowed herself to be? How she’d put the best of what she had into it, the best of herself . All that hope – and – here she was.  
The fantasy Dean returned with a beer and a blanket, bundled them both up. She leaned against him, beer sour and familiar. There she was.


End file.
